


Lies and Other Crimes

by DPPatricks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Anxiety, Companionship, Confusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 00:42:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17172596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: Things are definitely not what they appear in the tiny company-town of Thompsonville, CA. Deputy Dave Lombard and Thompson Pharmaceuticals warehouse foreman Ken Foley find themselves in relationships they don't remember and that don't *feel* right, even though the town's residents keep telling them things are okay. Dave and Ken become increasingly unsure that that's the case.





	Lies and Other Crimes

**Author's Note:**

> This story was part of the 2018 Starsky&Hutch Advent Calendar, posted in segments on Days 6, 8, 10, and 12. The calendar can be found here: http://starskyhutcharchive.net/advent/2018/index.html?fbclid=IwAR2lCsqD0Kc8RxyC8VogeaMxSSBZVwMcNeg8Jx_3_5_yMSrXTEPB_ibXifA
> 
> Cautions noted that both Starsky and Hutch were with OC females and the story was Not Safe For Work. As stated in the Summary above, though, things are not as they appear, so I hope you'll read far enough to suss out the real story. Thanks, in advance.

Thompson County Deputy Dave Lombard took one last unhurried cruise through the small town before he packed it in and headed home to his wife. The sheriff had told him to knock off for the night but, for some reason, he’d felt compelled to take this final tour. Not that anything ever happened in Thompsonville, other than the occasional domestic dispute or petty theft from the hardware store. But he took his responsibilities seriously since, when he logged out, only the other deputy, Stan, would be available to take care of any problems that might arise. 

One sheriff and two deputies were, in most instances, enough to police the small county and smaller community, but Dave had been more uneasy than usual and something had kept him in his patrol car, making the rounds. When he’d stopped at the gas station’s pay phone and called his wife, Pam, to say he’d be a little late, she had said she’d wait up.

As he crossed the town’s main intersection, headed for the sheriff’s office, and his own wheels, he smiled. It happened every time he looked at the decorations the town council had hung on the light poles: large, sparkly, white cutouts of snow flakes. In addition, each of the store-fronts had garlands and tiny lights displayed inside and out, giving off a nice holiday spirit. They were all on timers and would go off at midnight so he knew it wasn’t quite that late yet. Due to his persistent memory loss, Dave couldn’t remember any specific Christmases but he knew, somehow, that it was his favorite holiday.

Unexpectedly, at this late hour, a figure was sitting on the bench in front of the post office/general store. Dave knew the man was the foreman at the Thompson Pharmaceuticals warehouse but, since his memory-loss, he hadn’t renewed any acquaintance they might have shared. The guy’s name was Ken… something, and Dave knew he was engaged to Mr. Thompson’s daughter. Figuring this was as good a time as any to get reacquainted, he pulled over and stopped. 

The figure rose when Dave stepped out of the car. Instead of approaching casually, however, as he had intended, Dave was halted by a wave of uncertainty, of vulnerability, clearly sent from this man. His cop instincts immediately on alert, he put a neutral expression on his face and walked forward, his right hand held out in a friendly manner, his left in the vicinity of the weapon holstered on his hip.

The man glanced toward Dave’s left hand. “I think I’m harmless, Deputy.” He smiled and extended his own right hand.

Dave assessed the dry-palmed, long-fingered grip and the beautiful smile; if the person in front of him was nervous about something, it didn’t translate to his handshake or face. “David Lombard. I must know you, but I can’t remember your last name.”

“Foley. Ken Foley. Yes, I’m sure we’ve met and I apologize, too. My memory’s not what they say it used to be.” Ken let go of his hand and gestured around. “What are you doing out so late, Deputy? Sidewalks are already rolled up for the night.” 

Dave shrugged, instinctively liking the man. “I might ask you the same question. I seem to recall being told you’re the fiancé of Mr. Thompson’s daughter. What’s her name? Martha? Marla?”

“Marcie,” Ken provided. “And, yes, I am.” For a moment, he appeared nonplussed and Dave’s instincts went on full alert. 

Ken was about his own age - late thirties, was an inch or two taller, had golden blond hair that, even in the dim illumination from the holiday lights, almost glowed. He was wearing a tailored blue shirt under a heavy buckskin jacket that was hanging open, despite the December chill, tan jeans and scuffed cowboy boots. His eyes were the most brilliant sky-blue Dave had ever seen. “Can’t sleep?”

Ken gestured to the bench and sat down. “Ever since the… accident, that’s one of the many things I don’t do very well.”

Dave sat next to him, understanding and sympathy flooding through him. He, too, had been the victim of a recent incident and still had difficulty controlling the onslaught of doubt, concern, and even fear that seemed to come on him at unpredictable times. “I heard about that.”

“Everybody in town probably has. It can’t be a secret. They say I rolled my car on the curve south of the river and spent three weeks in the Fresno hospital’s intensive care unit.”

“They weren’t sure you were going to live, right?” 

Ken nodded. “It must have shocked the doctors when I came out of the coma after they’d already told Marcie and her father that I was almost certainly going to die.”

“Did ‘em good, I imagine.” Dave didn’t try to hide his grim expression. “Hate doctors myself.” He studied the blond again because he didn’t look like the type to make the kind of mistake the accident indicated: too much to drink, going too fast, trying to get a decent station on the radio; all the usual ‘excuses.’ “I can’t recall what they said about what caused the accident. Were you drunk? Running away from something? Chasing somebody?”

Ken lifted both shoulders. “I don’t remember. I didn’t even wake up enough to know anything at all until I was back here in the clinic. Doc Morris, Sheriff Wharton, Marcie, and Mr. Thompson have told me what happened. Actually, I’ve been trying to piece my entire past back together from what people have been telling me.”

“Two amnesia cases in the same small town at the same time?” Dave shook his head. “What are the odds of that, you think?”

Ken looked confused. “I don’t understand what you mean?”

“Coincidence, that’s probably all it is. But I hate those as much as I dislike doctors.” Dave pushed his resurfacing anxiety aside. 

Ken was looking at him as if trying to see through mist. “I do remember Marcie saying something about one of the deputies having a hard time recently. Was that you? Got yourself shot?”

Absent-mindedly, Dave drew his weapon and held it loosely in his hand. He had no idea why he’d done it and, for some reason, didn’t want this relative stranger to know how unsettled he suddenly was. Rather than re-holster the gun though, he simply held it in his lap. “Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna shoot ya.” He grinned around his discomfort, wanting to put this person at ease.

When Ken appeared to relax again, Dave went on. “I’ve been told I was in Stockton a couple of months ago, just minding my own business, when I walked into an armed robbery in progress at a Seven-Eleven.” He felt himself tensing up and took a deep breath. “Long story short, I supposedly got the perps disarmed and handcuffed together but only after one of them had taken a shot at me and creased my skull.” He blew out the breath and re-holstered his weapon before tracing a long groove on the side of his head with the fingers of his left hand. “I don’t remember any of it. Doc says it’s a kind of amnesia but he doesn’t seem to think I’ll ever get my memories back.”

“None of them?” Ken was plainly shocked. “I thought that was rare and I was the only one.” He looked intently at Dave. “That’s weird.”

“I agree.” 

After a few moments of silence, the lanky blond shook himself and glanced at his watch. “Since I have to be at the warehouse at six, I guess I’d better get back to Marcie.” He stuck his hand out. “It was good to officially meet you, Deputy.”

Dave gripped the hand. “Dave.”

“Ken.” Getting to his feet, he seemed reluctant to part company. “Well… I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

Dave stood up and found himself smiling. “I think you can count on it. It is a pretty small town.” He watched the tall, lean figure walk away with a feeling of loss he didn’t quite understand. Deciding he’d make sense of it later, he got in his car and headed to the station.

Pamela was waiting for him when Dave got home. She hadn’t turned the heat down for the night and was wearing her flimsiest negligee over almost-non-existent panties. Unfolding her sensuous body from the arm chair in the living room, she glided across the floor and manhandled him out of his fleece-lined jacket as soon as he’d shed his hat and holster onto the coat tree. “Geez, I thought you’d _never_ get home!” She fastened her mouth to his as she wrapped her arms around his neck, hopped up and twined her legs around his waist.

Dave staggered back a step under her assault but managed to keep his balance. Never quite comfortable with her forwardness, he tried to laugh when he managed to come up for air. “Am I that late?”

She pointed to the bedroom. “In there. Now!” As he carried her, she began unbuttoning his shirt. “And why are you wearing so many clothes?”

He batted her hands away gently and deposited her on the side of the bed. “It’s called a uniform, Pam. Your father frowns on his deputies going around town in the nude.”

She scooted her butt to the head of the bed and leaned against the wall, her mouth posed in a patently seductive moue. “Well, get out of it quick, lover, ‘cause I’m hot to trot.”

Dave walked to the chair where he usually piled his clothes. “You didn’t have to wait up.”

“You want me to entertain myself, Deputy? Use one of my numerous dildos?” Her laugh sounded ugly. “When I’m in the mood for a real fuck, baby, rubber, glass, and plastic just don’t cut it.”

He could feel her gaze drill into his back but didn’t rise to the bait. The last of his clothes took their place on the chair and he turned to her. 

She was playing with herself through the slit in her panties while the fingers of her other hand caressed her lips. The look she was sending him was undoubtedly meant to be alluring. “Like what you see, darlin’?”

He approached the bed, suddenly terribly weary. “I’m really tired tonight, Pam. Let’s make love in the morning, okay?”

“No. Not okay.” Quick as a flash, she grabbed his hand and yanked him down, flattened him onto his back, and mounted his hips. One hand wrapped around his flaccid cock while the other raked enameled nails across his chest. He wasn’t sure, but it felt like she might have broken the skin. She twined her fingers into his chest hair and tugged, hard. “You like it rough, remember, lover?”

Looking up into her fiery, hard stare, he had no earthly idea why he might have married this woman. “No. Actually, Pam, I don’t have any such memory. Are you sure?”

She threw her head back and laughed while her practiced hand stroked him to stiffness. “A wife is always sure, baby.” She leaned down and captured his mouth again in a savage kiss before she reared up and jammed herself down onto him. “Now, cowboy, give me the ride you’ve been saving.”

He tried one last time to derail this runaway freight train. “Pam, I don’t think this is going to work. I’m really tired.”

“Oh, you’d better _make_ it work, Davey Boy. I waited up for you and now you’re going to repay me for my wifely devotion.”

Is that what it is? Dave wondered, feeling his cock responding in spite of himself. Wishing he’d stayed at the station and slept on the cot in the cell, he resigned himself to trying to satisfy his rapacious wife.

******

Foley poured a cup of coffee from the fresh pot and stared out the window at the brightening eastern treeline before he took the mug to the kitchen table and sat down. The fat ceramic Santa Claus in the center, packed with homemade cookies, didn’t give him the contented feeling he thought it should.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning, honey, is something wrong?” Marcie put a plate heaped with scrambled eggs, bacon and toast on the table in front of him. 

Distractedly, Ken glanced at his watch before digging in. “I’m just a little tired, hon. Stayed out longer than I expected last night.”

Sitting down across from him with her cup of hot tea, she laughed, dunking the bag a few times. “I tried not to fall asleep but I guess I conked out. What time did you get in?”

“About twelve, I think.”

“Someone in this tiny company town catch your eye?” 

Her voice sounded a little suspicious, a little wary, but Ken passed it off. He wasn’t used to reading her expressions or tones yet, and he was having trouble with his own feelings. The conversation he’d had with the deputy had left him both comfortable and fretful - a strange combination. He’d experienced an instant camaraderie with Dave that he couldn’t remember ever having had with anyone else; certainly not anyone since his accident. But both of them having amnesia was disturbing, to say the least. As far as he was concerned, the less said to anybody about last night, the better. “Not really. It was just such a beautiful night I didn’t want to come inside.”

She sipped her tea and he knew she was studying him as he ate. “You’d tell me if anything was bothering you, wouldn’t you? I mean, we tell each other everything, right?”

He forced himself into the role he knew he should be playing: the intended husband of this smart, lovely young woman. “Of course, sweetheart.” He took his empty plate to the sink, washed and rinsed it, and put it on the rack to dry. Swallowing the last of his coffee, he did the same with the cup. “I’ve been thinking about the Christmas festival’s first rehearsal tonight.” He filled a Thermos with the rest of the pot of coffee and turned the machine off.

“What about it?” Her voice was definitely edgy now.

He turned around and leaned against the counter. “I’m not really sure. But I don’t feel as if I’m suitable for the role you say I always play.”

She got up and came to him, slipping her arms around his waist. “What do you mean, not suitable? You look wonderful in the robes! You’re so tall and… well… regal.”

He felt himself blushing. “It’s just that… I still don’t remember anything, Marcie. If I’m to play a wise man convincingly, shouldn’t I have some sort of memory of being a good person?”

She laughed brightly but he thought it had a brittle edge. “You sound like you’re worried about forgetting your lines.” She punched him playfully in the stomach. “You have no lines, Ken. Nobody does. It’s a pageant! You don’t have to be Oscar-material.”

“When I put the costume on tonight, maybe it’ll jog something loose.”

She leaned up and kissed him lightly. When she spoke, her voice was softer. “Whether it does or doesn’t, you _are_ a good person, Ken. Believe me, I wouldn’t be marrying you otherwise.”

He tried to accept her verdict. “Okay, if you say so.” Quickly, he disengaged himself and picked up the Thermos. “Go back to bed, hon. You know you don’t have to make me breakfast in the mornings. The cafeteria at the factory is always open by the time I get there.”

She stood where she was, her arms folded across her chest, as if cold. “I like doing it.”

He leaned in and kissed her again quickly. “And I appreciate it.” He held the Thermos up. “Especially the coffee.” He worked his face into a smile. “The stuff they make at work is terrible!”

“So I’ve heard.” The return smile she gave him looked a little forced but he was probably imagining things. 

The ten minute walk didn’t give him nearly enough time to think about everything tumbling around in his head. It was difficult getting used to his job - again; no matter how hard he tried, nothing came naturally, or seemed to be anything he’d ever done before. Clyde Thompson, his boss and the head of Thompson Pharmaceuticals, Marcie, even his co-workers told him not to let it bother him. He was the best foreman they’d ever had, and a valued member of the small community. 

“Then why don’t I feel as if I belong?” he asked the squirrel that was sitting in the path. The squirrel, probably part of some sort of conspiracy, didn’t answer.

*******

At rehearsal that night, Dave was glad to see Ken. “Ah, someone I don’t have to struggle to remember.” He reached for the warehouse foreman’s hand and shook it firmly.

“My sentiments exactly.” Ken’s agreement sounded heart-felt.

Dave looked around at the townspeople donning their costumes for the annual pageant. His own dull, unadorned robe, made from coarse brown material, bore no resemblance to the velvet and braid draped over his new friend. He fingered the rich sleeve on Ken’s arm. “Why is it I get the burlap and you get the royal treatment?” 

Ken’s expression carried uncertainty. “Maybe because I’m supposed to be a king and you’re a simple carpenter?”

“Is that what Joseph was?” Dave shook his head. “I guess I should have known that, shouldn’t I? I don’t remember if I’m religious but I should have known that.”

Marcie and Pam showed up at that moment and each put a hand through an appropriate elbow. “Come on, Dave,” Pam cooed. “Mel wants to make sure our costumes look okay. He says we’ll all need new ones next year.”

Dave looked at Ken. “See you ‘round the manger.” He watched as Marcie nudged Ken toward the other two ‘wise men’ who were guzzling beers. 

“Here’s Ken, fellas,” Dave heard her say. “Don’t let him get lost now.” She leaned up and kissed her intended. “I’ll see you after rehearsal, sweetheart.”

Pam tugged on Dave’s elbow and led him toward Mel, the ‘director’ of this, to Dave’s way of thinking, over-blown production.

*******

At the edge of the gathering, Sheriff Dan Wharton and Clyde Thompson watched the foreman and deputy being separated by the two women. The sheriff, still wearing his uniform and weapon, leaned toward the patriarch of the town’s founding family. “They’ve become friends?”

Thompson’s face was unreadable but Wharton felt the older man’s concern as he shrugged. “Apparently.”

“Is that wise?”

Thompson looked at him, the air suddenly frigid between them. “How do you propose to keep them apart?” 

Wharton didn’t have an answer. “No idea. But we’d better think this through again. The doc says, as long as they both keep getting their doses, they won’t remember anything, but --”

“Pam and Marcie will make sure,” Thompson broke in. “Our daughters know what would happen if either one of them begins to get his memories back.”

“How long are you figuring on letting this little charade continue?” Wharton glanced back and forth between his deputy and Thompson’s warehouse foreman.

“Just as long as I want it to, Dan.” Thompson’s voice was icy. “Until I’m satisfied that they’ve suffered enough.” 

The sheriff stared at Thompson as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “What makes you think either of them is suffering now?” He looked back at the pair. “They’re free as a bird, have good jobs, and the run of the whole town.” He almost snarled the next words, “Starsky’s fucking my daughter.”

“A role she begged for.” Thompson’s voice held no sympathy at all. “And, as she’s told me herself, one she’s very much enjoying.” His tone shifted to that of a confidence. “That girl has a mean streak in her a mile wide. You know that, right?”

Wharton swallowed hard. “Always has.” He dragged his thoughts back to the subject at hand. “How are these two suffering, though, Clyde? I don’t see it.”

“They’re lost. They have no idea who they are and, for self-possessed, successful cops like them, that has to be pure Hell. I want to wallow in the irony a little longer.” Thompson crossed his arms, apparently quite satisfied with himself.

“Wish you’d just let me kill them. Be a whole lot easier.”

“You’re too simplistic, Dan. My way is so much more subtle. Hutchinson’s already showing signs of the strain and Marcie says he’s not sleeping well.”

“Starsky’s like dog with a bone,” the sheriff muttered. “He buries it while he’s working but, when he’s off duty, digs it up and worries over it.”

“They were both so… arrogant at the trial.” Thompson was nearly vibrating with what Wharton knew was repressed hatred. “I want them taken down as many pegs as I can manage.”

“They had every right to be arrogant,” Wharton pointed out. “They had the goods on our sons.”

“I know but --”

Wharton figured he was walking on thin ice but he overrode the denial. “I still think your high-priced mouthpiece screwed up when he tried to imply that Starsky had mob connections.”

“He used that ploy over my objections,” Thompson said. “I should never have allowed it.”

“And then to have him attempt to introduce the fact that Hutchinson had been suspected of his wife’s murder…”

“You’re right,” Thompson admitted. “I see it, in retrospect, but didn’t at the time. And I didn’t expect the backlash. I watched the jury’s faces as the judge told him, in no uncertain terms, that lies and false innuendo wouldn’t be allowed in her courtroom. That’s when they turned against us.”

“I think you’re wrong there, Clyde. The evidence is what turned them against us. That, and the unshakable testimony from those two.”

“Everything was blown out of proportion.” Thompson was beginning to sound whiny. “So what if a few street kids died? They were nothing, worse than nothing! A drain on society.”

Wharton knew he was taking a chance but he couldn’t remain silent after that statement. “Their mothers might not have thought so.” 

“It never should have been anything more than a brief investigation and then an unsolved case. Cliff and Darrel defied me and I’d have dealt with them. It didn’t have to end up in court.”

“With Starsky and Hutchinson involved it did.”

“Which is exactly why they’re here now, in the palms of our hands. So that we can extract our revenge.” Thompson’s next look chilled Wharton to the bone. “And then kill them. Just like you want.”

Wharton had been willing to snuff both cops but keeping them alive while tormenting them was getting to him. He knew he’d allowed himself to be persuaded into this madness but was beginning to fear that he’d be joining his son in the state penitentiary before too much longer.

*******

As Dave and Ken lifted their costumes’ robes over their heads and handed them to Stella, the morose wardrobe mistress, Dave turned to his new friend. “Do you shoot?”

Ken’s face turned utterly blank. “Excuse me?”

Dave thought Stella froze for a moment, a look of what resembled near-panic in her eyes, but it was gone almost immediately; he disregarded it as his imagination. She gathered their garments to her ample bosom and walked away. Dave put a hand lightly on Ken’s back and wandered with him through the disrobing cast. “Guns. Handguns, rifles, shotguns…. Do you shoot?”

Ken stopped in his tracks. “I have no idea.”

Dave urged him onward with a gentle nudge. “Why don’t we find out? Pam tells me she and Marcie are going down to Fresno tomorrow to do some shopping for Christmas, and your wedding. Neither of us works on Sunday, right?”

Ken nodded. “Right.”

For some unknown reason, as they approached their respective ladies, Dave lowered his voice. “There’s a gun club behind the bowling alley. How ‘bout eight o’clock?”

Ken matched the quiet tone. “I’ll be there.”

Pam moved to Dave’s side and snaked her arm possessively around his waist. “What took you two so long? I gave Stella my robes hours ago and Marcie and I’ve been waiting!”

Ken draped his long arm across Marcie’s shoulders and addressed Pam’s irritation with kindness. “Stella’s a tyrant, Ms. Wharton, you know that. She didn’t want anyone dropping costumes anywhere except directly into her arms. Gus and Jimmy got tangled up in their skirts.”

Pam snickered. “They would.” Tightening her arm around Dave’s waist, she smiled sweetly at Ken. “You really need to get over this formality you seem to be clinging to since the accident, Kenny. We’ve known each other forever! Marcie’s my best friend and I’m her Maid of Honor. Please, call me Pam.”

Even in the near-darkness, Dave saw the color rise to Ken’s cheeks. “Yes, ma’… uh, sorry… uh… I mean, Pam.”

Wanting, for some reason, to spare his friend any more embarrassment, Dave turned Pam toward their car. “I’m bushed, honey, let’s head home.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Ken and Marcie were walking away. “See you, Foley.”

Ken looked back and nodded.

*******

As soon as they crawled into bed, Pam’s eager fingers found Dave’s cock. “What’s this, baby? Bad ol’ rehearsal take all the lead out of your pencil?”

Dave carefully removed her hand. “You’re probably not going to believe me but I’ve got to use the tired old female complaint.”

“What?” She punched him in the side, hard. “You’ve got _cramps_?”

The nasty tone of her voice reinforced his determination not to give in to her manipulations. “Headache.”

“Take some aspirin!” She tried to crawl on top of him.

He slid out from under her and turned on his side, away from her. “Not tonight, Pam. I mean it.”

She hit him several times on the back and shoulder with her fist. “You’re my studly husband! When I want you, it’s your marital duty to put your cock in me and screw my brains out!” She sat up and stared at him. “What’s _wrong_ with you? No man has ever turned me down. Ever!” She flounced out of bed and stormed into the kitchen, naked and fuming. 

Dave figured he’d pay for that, sooner or later, but he simply couldn’t force himself to participate in what seemed more and more like twisted games. He sighed and tried to calm his mind into sleep. It was a long time coming. If she came back to bed, he never felt it.

*******

Ken did his best to satisfy Marcie’s needs orally but suspected she faked her orgasm. He’d never even gotten hard, in spite of her practiced hands.

“What’s the matter, honey? You’ve been so distant lately. Is it something I’ve done?”

He sat up on the edge of the bed, his back to her. “No, sweetheart, of course not.”

She crouched behind him, her arms around his neck, her hands caressing his chest. “What is it, then? Don’t you still want to marry me?”

He turned, leaned against the headboard, and settled her in his arms. “Sure I do, Marcie. But I seem to be having a lot of trouble convincing my mind to accept that I’ll never remember anything. It’s getting worse instead of better.”

“Doc Morris said --”

“I _know_ what he said,” Ken interrupted, angry with himself for not being able to explain things to her. “I know what everyone says. But hearing something and accepting it are two entirely different things. I’m just going around in circles. Everyone’s been kind and understanding, explaining things when I screw up, never sounding angry or impatient.”

“It’ll get better, honey.”

“I’m not sure it will! I want so badly to remember, Marcie… I don’t know if I can live with myself if I don’t.”

She sat up and stared at him. “What do you mean? You wouldn’t do anything… drastic. Would you?”

“Like kill myself?” She didn’t answer, which was answer enough. He shook his head. “No. I’d never do that. But… I might want to go away for a while. Find a doctor somewhere… get another opinion. Find someone who knows what the _hell_ is going on with my head!”

She put her arms around him again and drew him down. “Give it more time, Ken. Please? I know it sounds terribly uncaring of me but I’m sure things will get better…. Soon. Just give it a while longer. Okay?”

With no immediate choice, Ken slipped his arms around her. “Sure, hon. I’ll wait.” He kissed her temple. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Go to sleep.”

*******

Pam was driving too fast and a bit recklessly, as she always did. Marcie tried not to be concerned, since all the tickets Pam ever got were quickly fixed by her father. Still, it made Marcie nervous and she could tell that Pam knew it by the tone in her friend’s voice when she broke the long silence. 

“You’re awfully quiet, Ms. Thompson.” Pam took her eyes off the road for much longer than Marcie was happy with, making her even more anxious. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet, girl. We’ve all gone too far to have anyone, especially you, turning back now.”

Marcie was surprised that Pam had read her so well and attempted to cover her growing apprehension. “I’m not turning back. I just…”

Pam’s voice dripped sarcasm. “You’re just _what_?”

“Concerned, that’s all.” Marcie knew it sounded lame but it was the best she could do. She’d fallen in love with Ken Hutchinson and had no earthly idea what to do about it. She hadn’t known anything about the man when the plan was being formulated, and had gone along with things because she’d always gone along with her father’s wishes. Pam had been so eager to play her own part, she’d convinced Marcie everything would be _fun_! 

But Marcie was no longer feeling anything but confusion and anxiety: what everyone was doing was _wrong_ , and she didn’t know how much longer she could keep up the pretense.

“Well,” Pam snarled, “get over it and smarten up! It’s your job to keep your cop dosed up and forgetful. I’m doing my part with his buddy, and we both have to make sure they don’t remember anything! Until my father and yours say different.”

Marcie couldn’t help but mentally withdraw into herself. Pam was always the strong one, the bossy one, the leader of the pack. Marcie would end up doing whatever Pam said; even though she knew the situation just wasn’t right!

Pam took a hand off the wheel and waved it cheerfully. “Wait ‘til you’re married to him, sweetie. Things’ll be different then. You’ll see.”

“How?”

Pam laughed and it sounded nasty. “You’ll have complete control then. Just like you did with Jeff. As for my… husband?” She grinned and, this time, Marcie knew there was evil behind the smile. “He’s sweet and doesn’t have a clue. I get away with anything I want. It’s not the challenge I thought it’d be when our daddies suggested it…. I wonder what Dave and Ken would do if they ever found out?”

Marcie wondered the same thing. And even though she knew she’d be held accountable, an idea began to take shape. Once Ken knew what had happened to him, of course, he might never return her feelings, but at least she could save his life! Anything could happen after that; love had to be worth something, didn’t it?

*******

At the shooting range, Dave surveyed the selection of hand guns available to visitors. “Let him try one like mine, Rudy.”

The attendant pulled a Beretta out of the case and handed it to Ken. The grip disappeared into the blond’s large hand and it didn’t appear to feel comfortable to him. Carefully taking the weapon, Dave handed it back to Rudy. “Don’t think so.” He scanned the glass-topped cabinet. “How about the Python? That oughta fit his paw.”

When Rudy placed the gun in Ken’s hand, Dave saw the almost immediate sureness with which Ken passed the weapon from hand to hand, opened the cylinder to make sure it wasn’t loaded, closed it again, and sighted out the window to the range behind the building. 

“Yep,” Dave said to Rudy, “that’s a winner.”

Rudy passed a box of ammunition to each of them, as well as ear protectors and a sheaf of paper targets. Dave signed the requisite forms, then turned to Ken and opened the side door for him, as Rudy ducked into the small office. 

Dave followed the blond outside where they took places, side by side, behind the partitioned counter. Dave noticed that Ken never hesitated as he drew his backboard from its slot fifty feet away, attached the first target to it, and returned it to its place against the earthen berm. _Hmmmmm, he’s done all this before_ , he thought.

Ken sent him a surprised look. “Yes, I think I have.”

Dave stepped back a pace, startled. “Did you just read my mind?”

Ken’s expression was as shocked as Dave felt. “I must have. You think I’ve done this before.”

Shaking his head, Dave stepped to the line. “I suppose it makes sense that’s what I’d be thinking but… yeah.”

Ken shrugged. “I’ll say it again. Weird.”

“And I’ll say it again, too. I agree.” Dave moved into his own section and put up his first target. They donned ear protection at the same time and Dave noticed that Ken had no difficulty loading the Magnum. Ken’s first shot was slightly to the right of center in the target’s chest, but the following ones created a hole in the paper visible from the firing line. Dave smiled as the blond reloaded. “You shoot, all right.”

Ken looked down at the weapon in his hand before staring at Dave. “So it would seem.”

*******

“Yes, sir.” Rudy cupped his hand around the mouthpiece of the phone, even though there was no one else in the room, and stared out the small window toward the two men standing at the firing line. “They’re out there now. And Hutchinson’s just put six almost into the bull’s eye. He sure can handle that hog leg I gave him…. The Python…. No, sir. I can’t hear what they’re sayin’, but they ain’t arguin’!… Yes, sir, I’ll let you know if they come back.”

*******

That night, when Ken and Marcie decided to bowl a few games, he wasn’t really surprised to find Dave and Pam already there, getting their shoes and score pages. A nagging thought even had him wondering if people weren’t conspiring to bring him and Dave into contact with each other. Everyone in the place seemed to be paying more attention to them than to their own efforts to knock pins down.

“Let’s get an alley together,” Pam suggested.

“Sure, why not?” Ken agreed. “It’s always more fun with four.” He shared a look of momentary uncertainty with Dave. “I think.”

Dave made a visible effort to shake off whatever concerns his lack of memory had generated and, taking Pam’s hand, headed toward the lanes. “We’ll grab one. Get your shoes!”

The evening passed in hilarity that seemed to Ken only slightly forced on the parts of all four participants, and beer. Conversation went from the banal: politics, to the ridiculous: the current crop of dreadful offerings on television. Especially considering that reception was very limited in their mountain community.

“I’m watching PBS, for God’s sake, ‘cause there’s nothing on ABC!” Pam griped.

Ken laughed along with the others, but he felt as if Pam hadn’t said it for the humor factor - she’d been serious.

When they got home, Marcie was extremely solicitous and Ken felt badly about being unable to respond to her kindnesses.

“You really aren’t into this tonight, are you?”

“Sorry, hon.” And he was. “Can we just snuggle? Please?”

“Of course. I thought the fun we had with Dave and Pam might have relaxed you.” She cuddled against his chest. 

“Maybe next time.” He held her until she finally went to sleep but didn’t succeed in finding sleep himself until nearly dawn. 

*******

When the bowling alley closed, Dave and Pam said goodnight to Ken and Marcie and went home. Dave knew he wasn’t in the mood for the lurid sexual games that had been his wife’s standard late night entertainment recently so, once they were naked, he slouched on top of his clothes in the chair, turning what he hoped was a lascivious gaze on her. “Let’s do something different tonight, Pam. You’ve got all those… accessories, but I can’t remember seeing you use them. Why don’t you show me what you do when I’m on duty?”

The request most definitely appealed to her but her response sounded skeptical. “You sure, baby? You know I love my fake cocks but yours is always the one I really want.”

“Let’s try it this way for tonight, Pam. If giving myself a hand-job while you get yourself off doesn’t satisfy us both, we’ll go back to the usual way.”

“I’m not sure I like that phrase, ‘the usual way,’ lover. But we’ll see.” She opened the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out one toy after another. 

Dave tried to swallow his revulsion because he was married to this female! Why was he having such a reaction to what must have been their normal relationship? No, he decided, as she chose a huge rubber model, nothing about his and Pam’s interactions felt ‘normal’ to him.

“Mmmmmmmmmmm.” She licked the dildo and inserted the head into her vagina. “Get started, sweetie, I’m way ahead of you.”

Dave watched her, even though his eyes wanted to be anywhere else, while he stroked himself. Something about this whole scene wasn’t _right_! 

She moaned and writhed, either doing an excellent job of acting or else truly enjoying herself. Dave had to force his disinterested organ to participate. 

*******

“Fancy meeting you here,” Dave said as he climbed out of his patrol car the following day and greeted Ken Foley, who was standing just outside the service bay of Ed’s Garage. Dave stuck out his hand and Ken gripped it.

Ed, the owner and sole mechanic of the only automotive maintenance and repair facility in town, backed out from under the hood of what Dave knew was Mr. Thompson’s Lincoln Town Car. “Be with you in a few minutes, Deputy. Gotta finish up with the boss’s ride first.”

“No hurry, Ed. The sheriff just said get it done, he didn’t say there was a time limit.” He smiled, to allay Ed’s apparent nerves. “And the town’s quiet today.”

The mechanic nodded and ducked under the hood again.

Dave gestured to the bench outside the shop’s office and headed in that direction. Ken followed him. When they were seated, Dave hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I think there’s probably coffee inside.”

Ken shook his head. “No, thanks. I sampled some last week when I brought Marcie’s Volvo in for a brake job.… I’ll pass.”

“Smart man.” Feeling, somehow, more at ease than he had for days, Dave leaned back against the wall. “So… when do you want to go bowling again? Or do some more shooting?”

Ken shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not really comfortable with my job yet and Marcie’s got me doing stuff for the pageant…” He appeared to be unhappy with himself and Dave felt, instinctively, that such feelings should be unusual. “And then there’s all the wedding plans Marcie’s got me involved with.” He pulled a confused face. “As if I’d know anything about such things.”

“Never been married before?” Dave hunched a shoulder when he realized he’d asked a question Ken couldn’t answer.

Instead of stating the obvious, though, Ken’s expression turned vacant and he sighed deeply.

“Forget I asked.” Without knowing why he did it, Dave reached over and patted Ken’s forearm. The contact seemed to calm them both. After a few quiet minutes, Dave began to feel antsy again, took his hand back, and stood up. “Ed’s got a soda machine… want a Coke?”

The blond shook his head. “Is there Sprite?” He dug in his pocket and handed Dave two quarters.

Dave thought he heard footsteps from inside but knew he must be imaging things, since there was no one around except Ed, and he was finishing up Thompson’s Lincoln. Taking the coins, he headed for the door. “I’ll see. Second choice?”

“Seven Up.”

“You got it!” 

*******

After both cars had been serviced and his customers were gone, Ed went into the office and made a call. “Ed here, Mr. Thompson. They came in, just like you and the sheriff said they would…. Sat out front…. Yes, sir, I could hear every word but they didn’t sound like they were gettin’ suspicious or nothin’… Just sat there in the sun and talked about the wedding and the pageant… shit like that…. Oh, Starsky came in and got a couple of sodas but I made sure he didn’t see me…. No, sir, I swear. I’d tell ya if they did. We’re all in this together, right?… Yes, sir, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

*******

Out of the corner of her eye, Marcie watched Ken finish drying the last dish and put it away in the cupboard. Knowing Dave was due to show up any minute, in response to her request that afternoon, she rinsed her hands, pulled the drain plug out of the sink, and turned to face him. “Honey…” 

Ken hung his towel on the rack. With even more uncertainty than she’d felt from him lately, he leaned against the counter, attempting to appear unworried. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Picking up a second towel, Marcie dried her hands. “What did you and the deputy talk about at Ed’s Garage today?”

Ken was surprised and didn’t try to cover it. “How did you know I saw him there?”

She went to him, slipped her arms around his waist, and hugged him. “Everyone in town knows every single thing the two of you do.”

He pushed her back and looked in her eyes. “What are you talking about, Marcie? Why would anybody care?”

She took his hand and led him to the table, where she sat and waited for him to do the same. She didn’t let go of his hand as he did and, after a deep breath, she looked squarely into his eyes. “It was a set up. My dad and the sheriff wanted to find out what you’d say to each other when no one else was around. So they arranged to have the two of you bring the cars to the garage at the same time. Ed was listening to everything you said.”

“No, he wasn’t. He was in the bay, changing the oil in both cars. Dave and I were out front on the bench. He couldn’t have heard us.”

She loved him so much she ignored his naiveté. “Jake Ramsey, Ed’s nephew, came in the back way and did the work. Ed was in the office right behind you, eavesdropping through the open door.”

Ken couldn’t hide his confusion. “Why?” 

Okay, she thought, showtime. “Your name isn’t Ken Foley.”

Whatever he’d expected, Marcie could tell it wasn’t that. “What did you say?”

After another ragged breath, she repeated the statement. She could see he was trying to make sense of her words and quickly followed them with, “And his isn’t Dave Lombard.”

Ken sat forward and took her other hand. “I think you’d better start at the beginning.”

At that moment, footsteps mounted the back porch stairs and there was a knock on the door. Marcie glanced at her watch, committed to this course of action and not allowing herself to deviate from it. She started to get up.

Ken held onto her hands, keeping her in place, while he stood. “Expecting anyone?” There was a harshness in his voice she’d never heard before. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Opening the door, Ken was clearly surprised, and pleased, to see Dave. “What in the world are you doing coming to the back door? Where’s your car?”

Dave stepped inside and closed the door. The look on his face said he wasn’t very happy. “It’s parked at the river overlook. Your fiancé asked me to come but told me not to let anyone see me.” 

Marcie got up and poured another cup of coffee, placing it at the end of the kitchen table, between hers and Ken’s. “Sit down, please, Dave…. Ken.”

Dave didn’t move; he stared warily at Ken. “Your soon-to-be-wife made it a point to catch me as I was driving down the alley behind the general store, on my usual patrol route late this afternoon. She was looking around as if to make sure no one saw us. She asked me not to leave my car anywhere near the house, and to come to the back door.” 

Marcie sat down in her customary chair. Committed or not, she hadn’t thought past this moment and, now that they were both here, she wasn’t sure how to begin.

Ken, who had to be feeling the wary vibes surging off his friend, which plainly heightened his own tension, took his seat.

Dave sat at the place indicated by the third cup. “What’s goin’ on, Ms. Thompson?” 

Marcie drank some coffee, looked at each of them, then back down at her cup. “Your names aren’t Foley and Lombard.”

Marcie felt enough electricity passing between the men to light all of Thompsonville. Working up her courage, she met their questioning gazes and continued. “They’re Ken Hutchinson and Dave Starsky.”

Silence reigned in the small kitchen for what Marcie felt might have been hours, days, weeks… eons, but was probably only a few seconds. Finally, Ken and Dave opened their mouths at the same time.

“Starsk…” and “Hutch…” quietly overlapped.

Marcie could see the veils began to lift from Ken’s mind but, other than the familiarity of the names, it was obvious he had no more idea about what was happening than Dave appeared to have. Ken turned to Marcie. “I’ll repeat his question. What’s going on?”

Marcie knew she was already in for a penny, so she might as well be in for a pound. “My father and the sheriff had you kidnapped in Bay City and brought here.” 

Knowledge lit Ken’s face and seemed to drive out uncertainty. “We don’t have amnesia.”

She shook her head. “No. Your memories have been drugged over.”

“Will we get them back?” Dave’s eyes showed how desperately he wanted that to happen.

Marcie shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s a completely experimental compound Doc Morris has come up with and even he doesn’t know.”

“How are they delivering it?” Ken asked. Long-suppressed ideas could be seen crowding into his mind.

“Pam and I put it in your morning coffee,” Marcie admitted. As Ken glanced at his cup, she put her hand over his. “No! This pot’s just coffee.” She didn’t want to be coy, this was too important, so she put unvarnished truth into her voice. “I promise, I’ll never give it to you again.”

Ken’s mental gears were almost audibly grinding when he looked at Dave.  
“We’re partners, Starsk. Remember?”

Dave looked at Ken with the first genuinely open expression Marcie had ever seen on his face. “Yeah. Once she…” he glanced at Marcie, “said the names, the lid that’s been on my memory began cracking and it’s all coming back. We’re detectives with the BCPD.”

“Dobey. Huggy…” Ken drilled a question at Marcie. “Have we been here longer than the two months I remember?”

She was equal parts contrite and ashamed. “No. It’s been just eight weeks.”

Ken’s shoulders slumped; the compassion he silently sent his partner was nearly palpable. “Your mom hasn’t heard from you in all that time. What’s she going to think?”

Dave covered Ken’s hand with his own, knuckles whitening from the strength of the grip. “I’ll bet Dobey and Huggy have been tearing the city apart.”

Sorrow overlaid Ken’s next words. “They probably think we’re dead.”

Now, finally, Marcie knew what she had to do. She put her cup down. “You have to leave. Tonight! If you’re here when my father and Sheriff Wharton find out I told you, they’ll kill you!”

Dave sat back, grimness turning his face to granite. “No. We’re staying.”

Marcie was near panic; this wasn’t what she expected at all. “You can’t! You have to get out of here!”

“We’re cops, Ms. Thompson,” Ken said, and she knew he was tightly controlling the anger he must be feeling. “Starsky and I are the victims of some major crimes and we’re not leaving until we’ve gotten to the bottom of it, and taken those responsible into custody.”

“You don’t understand!” Marcie ran a hand through her hair, then clasped both together on the table. “Every single person in this town is involved!”

Ken’s and Dave’s surprised expressions were almost exact duplicates of each other. Ken looked at Marcie. “Start at the beginning.”

Dave gulped the rest of his coffee, got up and opened the refrigerator. Smiling, he looked over his shoulder at Ken. “Want a beer, partner?”

“Yes, please!” Ken accepted the uncapped bottle. Dave sat back down and opened his own while Ken focused on Marcie again. “We’re waiting, Ms. Thompson.”

She got up and paced. She was going to lose everything if she couldn’t make them understand, and then get the hell out of here! If Ken stayed alive, she could go to Bay City, make everything up to him. Help him forget all the stress and confusion of the past two months, and make him fall in love with her. For real, this time. Maybe.

She knew her voice was going to sound ragged but she couldn’t help it. “Do the names Darrel Wharton and Cliff Thompson mean anything?”

Pieces were visibly falling into place in Ken’s probably-still-muddled mind. “Yeah… they were selling tainted pharmaceuticals.”

Dave sent him an intense look. “We were investigating because some kids died.” He was obviously sorting through his own reviving memories. “Turned out Wharton and Thompson had a batch of rejected drug runs out of a warehouse in…” he stared at Ken. “Here.”

“They were contaminated,” Ken added.

Marcie sat down again and picked up her cup. “A strain of virus had gotten into the processing equipment and ruined several entire batches before my father discovered it.” She looked guiltily at each of them. “Nobody thought it would be too much of a problem - certainly nothing that would cause death - but dad ordered the runs disposed of anyway.”

“Well, yeah…” Dave muttered.

“What no one realized,” she continued, “was that Cliff and Darrel didn’t destroy them. They took it all and went down to Bay City.”

“Where they peddled it,” Ken finished. “And people died.”

She hunched her shoulders and shuddered. “Yes.”

“We caught them…” Ken said.

“And they were convicted,” Dave completed the thought. He glanced at Ken. “Do you remember how many years they got?”

Ken took a moment to sort through what had to be fuzzy memories. “Twenty to life. As I recall.”

Marcie nodded before she looked up, misery in her eyes. “My father and Sheriff Wharton didn’t care that their sons had broken the law, they vowed they’d make you both pay.”

“Their precious sons had committed murder!” Dave was undoubtedly trying to rein in his outrage. “A death resulting from the commission of a felony, such as selling tainted drugs, Ms. Thompson, is considered murder.”

Ken put a hand back on his partner’s arm and faced Marcie’s anguish. “Not intentionally, perhaps. But their actions caused three teenagers to die.”

She dropped her head onto her hands. “I know.”

Dave swallowed more beer before sitting back and getting his ‘game face’ back on. “Okay. Tell us everything, Ms. Thompson.”

Ken reinforced the demand. “And he does mean everything.”

She sat up straight and met their unrelenting stares. “As soon as Cliff and Darrel were sentenced, my father and the sheriff began to plan. They called a town meeting because, if a grand conspiracy such as the one they foresaw could be achieved, they’d need the cooperation of every resident.”

She got up and poured herself more coffee before sitting back down. “The phrase, ‘company town’ fits this place to a T, believe me. No one had the nerve to go against my father. They all knuckled under. Everyone watches you both and they report every word you say.”

“No wonder,” Dave mused, “I’ve felt like I’ve had bugs crawling under my skin.” His left hand went to the scar on his head before he looked at Marcie again. “What did they do here?”

“I was told you’d been shot a few years ago,” she said. “Something about a mob hit in a restaurant. All Doc Morris did was open the scar and re-stitch it.”

Dave grimaced. “All.”

She ducked her head in apology but continued. “My father and Sheriff Wharton came up with the scenarios for your two… accidents, and everyone was told what to say to you in order to reinforce the fictions.”

Ken couldn’t hide the fact that he was impressed. “That’s an amazing achievement, when you think about it, Starsk. A few hundred people carrying on a performance like this.”

Dave grunted, sounding really pissed. “They’ve even got the kids involved, Hutch! Little Joey Parsons was telling me all the details of my supposed heroics at the Seven-Eleven!”

“He believed it, Dave,” Marcie said. “The children are innocent. They tell you only what they’re convinced happened.”

“But the adults aren’t innocent, right?” Ken drank some brew and she knew him well enough to realize he was replaying scenes in his head. “Ed, Rudy… Gus and Jimmy… my supposed co-workers…”

“The festival’s wardrobe mistress… what’s her name?” Dave asked.

“Stella,” Ken provided. 

“Everyone,” Marcie admitted.

Ken turned his gaze on Dave and Marcie could almost feel the heat of their combined rage. 

“Do you understand, now?” Her fear for Ken was in her voice but she didn’t mask it. “You can’t stay here. You both have to leave!”

Not breaking eye contact with his partner, Ken shook his head. “No. Deputy Lombard and I are going to remain right here, playing our roles, until you bring the cavalry, Ms. Thompson.”

“You worked up the nerve to tell us,” Dave said. “Now you’re going to have to follow through and help us.”

“But…” Marcie had played her last card but they weren’t going to leave! “I don’t think I can!” 

“Well, you had better think again.” There was steel in Ken’s tone. “You’re in this right up to your eyebrows and, unless you do something to mitigate your involvement, you’ll be facing the same charges as your father and Sheriff Wharton. I can’t guarantee that the D.A. will agree to let you off completely, but I give you my word that Starsky and I…” He glanced at his partner and got a nod of approval before returning his hard stare to Marcie. “Starsky and I’ll do whatever we can to get you off with as light a sentence as possible…. As long as you promise to do everything in your power to bring an end to this mess.” 

‘Bring an end to this mess.’ How, she wondered, was she supposed to do that? None of her father’s and Pam’s sweet-talking had prepared her for this! Could she go for help? Where? To whom? Was that even a possibility? Oh, Lord, why did she have to fall in love with Ken Hutchinson? Why hadn’t Leslie volunteered to be his fiancé? Leslie could have handled it. But, no, Pam wouldn’t allow anyone but her best friend, Marcie, to have the pleasure of playing a major role in this farce. Marcie always did what Pam said. Always. Until… until she’d fallen in love with Ken Hutchinson.

Ken’s firm voice broke into her frazzled thoughts. “We have to come up with a believable reason why you’ll be away for a day or two.”

She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to focus. “I’ll be away for a day or two?” Finishing her coffee, she got up and poured more before sitting back down. “I guess… maybe… I could have another panic attack.”

“A what?” Dave asked.

“The week before I married my first husband, Jeff, I ran away. Doc Morris called it a panic attack.” She looked at each of them. “It could happen again.”

“Okay.” Ken wasn’t convinced but didn’t seem to have a better suggestion.

“I’d have to call my father,” Marcie said. “Tell him I’m having the same feelings I did before Jeff, and I need to get away for the weekend. I’ll say I’m going down to my friend, Janet’s, in Los Angeles. It’s what I did last time. He’ll believe me.” 

Ken nodded. “But you’ll go past L.A., to Bay City.”

“Where you’ll find the Metro Division of the BCPD…” Dave continued.

“It’s at Fifth and Main,” Ken added, “just off Exit One-Twenty-One.” 

“Captain Harold Dobey is the man you need to see,” Dave told her. “Don’t talk to anyone else!”

Marcie had a terrible thought. “What if they don’t let me? What if no one believes me?” 

Ken smiled at Dave and they must have shared a memory because Dave suddenly grinned, too. Ken turned his confidence on Marcie. “Give them this message to relay to Dobey. Tell them Rafferty and O’Brien sent you.”

Dave chuckled. “That’ll get you an audience.”

“And Marcie…” Ken put a hand over her trembling one. “Tell Captain Dobey everything.”

“Don’t leave out a single detail.” Dave finished his beer and glanced at Ken. “My partner and I’ll keep things calm here until Dobey can gather his forces.”

“Think he’ll call in the Feds, Starsk?” Ken asked.

Dave hunched a shoulder. “Maybe. They didn’t take us across state lines but it is kidnapping. Shit! That would complicate things.”

“Plus,” Ken mused, “he’ll have to contact the sheriff’s department in the next county. The one here is sure as hell compromised.”

“So, what you’re saying is…” Marcie stared at each of them. “It may take your captain a couple of days, at least, to come up with a plan? Especially since it’s a weekend? You two are risking your lives until then. You know that, don’t you?”

Dave stared at her. “It’s what we do, Ms. Thompson.”

Ken patted her hand. “It’s become an undercover operation for us now, Marcie. And we’re pretty good at those.” He got up, pulled two more beers out of the fridge. “Figure out what you’re going to say to your father while I talk to my partner for a minute.” He headed toward the living room and  
Dave followed him.

Marcie sat, drinking more coffee and mentally writing the speech she would deliver to her father.

*******

Hutch and Starsky pulled the drapes tightly closed on all the windows before turning on a light. They sat next to each other on the couch, bathed in the sparkly glow of the decorated tree.

Starsky’s deep blue eyes met Hutch’s. “You hate the holidays and all the commercial shit. I remember.”

In spite of his roiling emotions, Hutch couldn’t help but smile. “If we pull this Christmas miracle off, buddy, I may have to change my mind.”

Starsky rolled his bottle in his hands. “You trust Marcie not to tell her father?”

Hutch matched the soft voice. “She didn’t have to let us know what’s going on.”

Starsky gulped brew. “No, she didn’t.”

Marcie came out of the kitchen and took the small arm chair across from them. “I know you have no reason to believe me but I’ll do what you ask.  
Would you draw me a map, please? I’m pretty good with directions but better with a map.”

Hutch put his beer down, got up and went to the desk in the corner. When he came back and sat down he began to draw a rudimentary layout of freeways and Southern California cities. “Bay City is just south of L.A. Interstate Five connects them. There’s an exit at Main Street and Metro is only a block west of there. You can’t miss it.” 

She took the piece of paper and studied it. “I’ve never been there.” When she looked up, her eyes held determination. “But I’ll find it. And I’ll tell your Captain Dobey that Rafferty and O’Brien are in trouble and need as much help as he can give them.”

Hutch nodded. “That should work.”

“Dobey’s a good cop, Ms. Thompson,” Starsky said. “He’ll figure out what needs to be done and then do it. It may take a day or two, but he’ll come charging up here with so much support, this town, and everyone in it, is going to be bottled up and jailed before they know what’s hit ‘em.”

“Be sure, Marcie,” Hutch softened his tone but kept it firm, “that you tell him exactly how many people are involved. He needs to know what he’ll be facing and bring all the personnel and transportation necessary.”

“Child Services, Hutch,” Starsky said. “There are going to be kids with no place to go when it’s all finished.”

“You’re right, Starsk. The children are going to be the innocent victims.” He looked at his supposed fiancé again. “I don’t know where we are in these mountains. How long a drive do you think it’ll be?”

“It takes about six to get to L.A. so I guess, maybe another half?”

“Dobey’s always there by eight on Fridays,” Starsky noted. “If you stop a few times, and you should, Ms. Thompson, don’t drive straight through, leaving here around midnight will put you there at just about the right time.”

“Can you do this, Marcie?” Hutch was concerned for her in spite of everything she’d been a party to. “Will you?”

It took her a minute but she met their stares without evasion. “What my father and this town have done to you both is wrong. My brother and Darrel Wharton deserved what they got. You didn’t. I’ve taken part in everything so far, but no more…. Yes, I can do it.” She stood up and moved to the phone on the end table. “Now, before I loose my nerve…” She picked up the handset and dialed while Hutch and Starsky listened.

“Hello, Daddy… I’m sorry to bother you so late but I didn’t want you to worry when you found out I’d gone down to L.A. for the weekend…. No, it’s nothing serious, I’m just feeling a little strung out. I guess it’s all the wedding plans, and the pageant and… everything else. I feel exactly like I did before I married Jeff…. No, of course I haven’t changed my mind. I just need to get away for a few days, that’s all. I’m fine, really. And Ken’s fine. We’re fine. But I need to spend a little time away from here…. I’ve taken care of the coffee, the compound’s mixed in the grounds. Every morning when Ken makes a pot, he’ll get his dose, so you won’t have to worry about a thing…. No, really, it’s nothing more than a panic attack….” She smiled grimly at Hutch. “You know me, Daddy, run away for a couple of days, get my feet back under me and I’ll be fine again. Jeff never had any complaints, did he?… Yes, I’ll be careful. And I’ll call you from Janet’s…. No! I’m not giving you her address or her phone number. You’d only come down and insist on taking us out to dinner. Or Disneyland…. Thanks, Dad. Thanks for understanding…. Love you, too. Bye for now.” 

Hutch stood up. “Well done. Now I suggest you pack a bag and then try to get a little sleep. I’ll wake you at twelve and have a Thermos of tea ready so that you’ll be able to stay awake.”

She straightened up. “Thank you. Both. I was terrified to tell you but couldn’t have lived with myself if I hadn’t.”

Starsky stood as well. “We appreciate it, Ms. Thompson.”

She started toward the bedroom but stopped and turned back. “Do not say a word to Pamela. She’s in this as deeply as her father.” She blew out a breath. “And she’s mean.”

“Boy do I know that,” Starsky muttered.

*******

When Marcie had closed the bedroom door behind her, Starsky slumped onto the couch again. “Well, that’s not quite what I expected when she flagged me down this afternoon.”

Hutch sat beside him. “But it answers our questions - why we’ve been so unsettled…”

“Why we were drawn to each other…”

“Seemed to hear each other’s thoughts.”

Starsky smiled what Hutch realized was his patented lop-sided grin. “We’re partners, Hutch.”

For the first time in two months, Hutch felt as if his feet were firmly under him again. “I wish it wasn’t so late. You need to call your mom.”

“I will, first thing in the morning, after Pam’s left for work. Gotta figure out what to tell her about where I’ve been.” He snapped his fingers. “What about calling Dobey right now?”

Hutch nearly choked on his swallow of beer. “Yeah… why don’t we?”

Starsky quickly lost his momentary high spirits. “What could he do at this time of night, though?” He considered for a few moments. “Marcie’ll be there first thing tomorrow. Face to face, she’ll be able to tell him everything he needs to know.”

“You’re right. Tonight, it would be too confusing.”

Starsky shot him an intense look. “She’s in love with you, you know.”

“Yeah.” With everything he’d learned and sensed and felt in the last half hour, Hutch knew his partner was right. It hurt a little to think what she might have to endure, even though she’d been a big part of the plan. Then another thought occurred and he voiced it immediately. “Hey, what about your… what about Pam?”

“She’s another kettle o’ fish entirely.” Starsky drank some beer. “Guess I’d better call her. If I don’t, she’ll have her father and Stan out looking for me.”

“What are you going to say?”

Starsky grimaced. “You were married. Vanessa, right? What would you have told her?”

Hutch shook his head. “Don’t think I ever lied to her.”

“What about this? Everybody already knows we’re friends… What if I say  
I saw you sitting outside the post office again, and you told me Marcie was going to leave for a few days. I didn’t know what to say… what to do…”

“So we came back here and had a few beers.”

“Had she already left?”

“No, she was packing.” Hutch thought about it. “I tried to settle her down, reason with her but she’s determined. She’s called Janet and her friend is expecting her.”

“Since she did it before, that’s believable.” Starsky drilled him with a look. “So, what about us? How do we handle the next few days?”

“Carefully?”

“That’s one thing I remember I’ve always loved about you, Blintz, your grasp of the obvious.”

*******

After Starsky left, Hutch knocked on the bedroom door and waited for the muffled “Come in,” before he opened it.

Marcie was sitting on the bed, her head in her hands, but looked up. “Has he gone?”

A small suitcase and her large purse were on the floor at the foot of the bed. Hutch walked over and sat next to her. “Yes.”

“You’re both crazy.”

He didn’t feel like smiling but he did. “You’re not the first person to tell us that, believe me.”

“Then why?” She got up and began to pace. “You could get away! Get back to Bay City and tell your Captain Dobey what happened. You wouldn’t be risking your lives the way you will be by staying here!”

“If we left, what would happen to you?”

“I don’t care! Don’t you understand? I don’t care any more. I’m in love with you and it was driving me insane, what they were doing to you. What they intended to do… eventually.”

“Everybody in town knew they were going to kill us?”

“Maybe not everybody. Even if they weren’t told, I’m pretty sure they suspected. When you finally disappeared, they’d never speak about it, but they’d know.”

“Being involved in murder isn’t something the average person can handle, Marcie. Someone would talk… sooner or later.”

“But you and Dave would be dead! What good would it do you, even if they did?”

“Point taken. The other consideration is, if we left, your father and the sheriff would get the truth out of you and probably run. They’d leave the residents here to take the blame, and save themselves. You know they would.”

“You’re right. That’s exactly what they’d do.”

“Which is why Starsky and I are staying. We’ll keep doing what we’ve been doing for two months and no one will know their tidy little world is about to fall apart.”

“You have a lot of faith in your Captain.”

“It’s called trust, Marcie. Starsky and I trust each other and we trust Captain Dobey. He won’t let us down.”

“I won’t, either.”

He took her hand. “You’ve had a difficult few months and we’re grateful that you decided to help us tonight. We’ll do whatever we can, when it’s all over, to help you.”

“I wish things could’ve been different, Ken.”

“If wishes were horses…” He hoped his voice didn’t sound too callous.

“Everyone would ride,” she finished. 

*******

Although it was late when Starsky got to his house, Pam was waiting up for him. Furious. “Where the fucking hell have you been?”

He took his coat, hat and holstered gun off, hanging them on the coat tree, before turning to her. “Taking care of town business. I called you.”

She glared at him, fists planted firmly on her hips. “Baby sitting Foley after his bride-to-be skipped town? _Again_? That bitch has absolutely no spine!”

“Don’t be unkind, Pam. She’s not as strong as you are. She just needs some time. Foley’s sure she’ll be back by Monday. But he was upset.” He headed toward the kitchen, really wanting one more beer.

She grabbed his arm and spun him around. “Don’t you dare try to brush me off with ‘she’s not as strong as you are,’ and ‘he was upset’. Maybe Foley killed her. Did you ever think of that?”

Starsky took a deep breath, keeping a tight rein on his control. “She was packing when we got there. Not dead. Not even close.” He edged past her. “I’m having a beer. You want one?”

“I figured you’d already had your limit at Marcie’s house, sweet cheeks. I’d rather fuck.” She started to drag him toward the bedroom.

He resisted. “I’m tired, Pam. I don’t want to tangle with you tonight.” She actually hissed and he caught her hand, stopping the slap inches from his face. “My shift starts at eight.” He dropped her wrist and turned away, donning his holster, hat and coat again. “Instead of that beer, I think I’ll catch a few hours of sleep at the station.”

As he stepped out the door and off the porch, her scream followed him. “I’m calling my father! I won’t be left standing here while my husband deserts me.”

Thank God she’s not really my wife, Starsky thought.

“Come back here!”

Not bothering to turn around, he got in his car and drove the short distance to the station. 

“Go home, Stan,” he said as he walked through the door. “Pam and I’ve had a… disagreement and I’m going to bunk here tonight. It’s quiet. I can handle anything that happens.”

Stan stood up, shoving the porno magazine he was drooling over into a drawer. “Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure.” Dave walked to the coffee pot and poured himself what he knew would be undrinkable mud. “Give my best to your dog.”

Not waiting to be told twice, Stan grabbed his coat and hurried out the door.

Unfortunately, only a few minutes later, before Starsky could get settled on the cell’s cot, Sheriff Wharton showed up. The lawman’s natural ruddy complexion was bordering on heart-attack territory but Starsky couldn’t find a shred of sympathy for him. “What’s up, Sheriff?” He got to his feet and walked out of the cell into the front room, picking up his coffee cup. 

“My daughter called! What the hell do you think you’re doing, walking out on her like that?”

Starsky poured a cup of coffee and offered it to Wharton. “Pam likes to play games, sir, you know that. I wasn’t in the mood tonight. That’s all.”

Huffing in obvious reluctant understanding, the sheriff took the cup and sat down behind his desk. “I’m told she does that.”

Starsky sat on the arm of the wooden guest chair. “Marcie Thompson’s left town for a few days.”

Wharton was clearly surprised. “She’s _what_?” 

Starsky sat down in the chair and took a swallow of sludge. “I found her fiancé sitting outside the post office and he told me she was feeling a little confined… needed to go see her friend in Los Angeles for the weekend.”

Wharton shook his head. “Done it again, has she?”

“Apparently.” Starsky crossed his knees, hoping to convey unconcern. “I drank a couple of beers with him at their house, while she was packing, and was a little late getting home.”

A knowing grimace crossed the sheriff’s face. “And Pam over-reacted.”

Starsky lifted a shoulder in a non-committal response. “If you say so, sir.”

Wharton took another sip of coffee and made a face. “Do yourself a favor, Dave…” He got up, went to the front door, opened it, and threw the rest of the liquid out onto the sidewalk, before he looked back at Starsky. “Stay here for the next night or two. I’ll have a talk with Pam tomorrow, then we can both let her settle down over the weekend.” He put the empty mug on Stan’s desk and cast Starsky a speculative glance. “You wouldn’t say no to a pot of fresh coffee in the morning, would you?”

Starsky knew the reason for the question but didn’t let it show on his face. “No, sir, I sure wouldn’t. This machine we’ve got here makes terrible stuff.”

“Vinegar,” Wharton muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“My late wife always swore by vinegar, but it’s never set right with me.” Shaking himself out of his reverie, the sheriff smiled. “I’ll make sure Pam brings a full pot down to you.”

Starsky stood up and attempted to appear grateful. “If you can do that, sir, you’ve got a better handle on her than I do.”

The sheriff turned away but not before Starsky had seen the smugness. “It’s called practice, Dave. Lots of practice.” With his hand on the door knob, he turned back. “Pam loves Christmas. I predict she won’t hold onto her mad for too long.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Get some sleep!” 

Starsky stretched out on the cot in the station’s only cell but he didn’t even close his eyes. Instead, he went over everything he and Hutch had learned that night. None of it did anything to calm his rage at what had been done to them, but it served to focus his anger. By the time he had replayed all the scenes of manipulation and machinations he and Hutch had been put through, he was honestly looking forward to continuing to play the part of the simple, small-town deputy, until Dobey could bring help.

At five a.m., he picked up the phone on Stan’s desk and dialed eleven digits. “Hi, Ma. It’s me…. Hey, don’t cry. I’m okay…. No, honestly, I’m fine. It’s just been an unbelievable couple of months and I’m really sorry for what I know you must have been going through…. Right, okay. Are you sitting down?… Good…. Well, apparently, it all started when Hutch and I -- What? Oh, yeah. Hutch is fine, too. We’re gonna come see you as soon as this whole thing is wrapped up…. Yeah, I’m getting to it, just sit down and listen, okay?”

*******

As he’d been expecting, Hutch was called into Thompson’s office the next morning, and stood at attention in front of the imposing desk, waiting to see how his boss’s strategy would play out. It didn’t take long.

“So, you’ve run my daughter out of town. Is that correct, Mr. Foley?” Thompson’s icy sneer was top quality.

Hutch forced himself to cower slightly. “She said she’d only be gone over the weekend, sir. One small bag was all she took.”

Thompson glowered for a while before leaning back in his big chair and letting a patronizing smile soften his expression. “If she hadn’t done it before, I’d be concerned.” He leaned forward and pushed a button on his intercom. “Bring us two coffees, Shirley.” He sat back and motioned Hutch to sit in the guest chair. “Any idea what brought it on?”

Hutch didn’t reply immediately, giving the impression, he hoped, of still being utterly unknowing about everything that had happened.

After a light knock on the door, the secretary came in, handing a mug of coffee to Thompson and one to Hutch before leaving and closing the door behind her.

Hutch took a swallow. “No, sir. We had dinner, as usual. Talked about the pageant… the wedding...” He made sure his face showed only innocent confusion. “She began telling me about… Jeff… Am I supposed to remember who that is, sir?”

Thompson waved a hand negligently. “Not until you remember everything else.” He drank some coffee. “Jeff Dayton was Marcie’s first husband. They were high school sweethearts. Everyone knew they’d marry.”

When he didn’t continue, Hutch prodded. “And…?”

“It didn’t work out. Jeff was my warehouse foreman, before you, and he and my son, Cliff, didn’t get along.” He straightened some papers on his desk. “I had to fire him.” He smiled slightly. “Jeff, that is, not Cliff. And since Jeff and Marcie were turning out to be incompatible as a married couple, Jeff decided to leave for greener pastures. He never contested the divorce.”

Hutch spread ‘bland’ all over his face. “Have I worked for you ever since, sir?”

“Oh, you were already working for me, Ken. I just promoted you once Jeff was gone.”

“And Cliff? Where is he?” Hutch made sure it sounded like a casual question.

“He’s…” Thompson was clearly having difficulty with an answer. “No longer here.”

Hoping he wasn’t over doing his subservient role, Hutch put a slight quaver in his voice. “I haven’t caused any problems between you and Marcie, have I, sir?”

Thompson waved the words off. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Hutch finished his coffee and stood up. “I’m grateful for the job, Mr. Thompson, and I’ll get back to it now, if that’s okay. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Don’t mention it. I expect Marcie will call us both today, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, sir.” Hutch left the office and put his empty cup on the corner of Shirley’s desk. “Thank you.”

She dimpled at him but he ignored the come-on and went back out to the warehouse to continue his duties. His co-workers gave him false smiles and lots of space.

*******

The final pageant rehearsal that night was strained on everyone’s part but Hutch and his partner never let on that they noticed. They chatted with their supposed friends and played their parts. Pam was grim-faced, a snarling Mary to Starsky’s complacent Joseph. 

While they waited for Stella to take their costumes, Hutch whispered, “Word around town is you’re sleeping at the station.”

“Seemed the safest thing to do,” Starsky replied. “Otherwise, I’d probably strangle her.”

Hutch turned a pleasant face on the scowling Stella and handed her his robes. “Be of good cheer, Stella. This’ll all be over very soon.”

“‘til next year,” she growled. 

“Look on the bright side.” Starsky handed her his burlap garment, “It’ll look great on your resume.”

“What resume?” Muttering, “why would I need a resume?” she turned away. 

Starsky couldn’t hide a small smirk. “I’ll bet the women’s prison will be tickled when she shows up. A person with her experience to handle the costumes for all the plays they put on? She’ll be a shoo-in for the job.” 

Hutch smothered a chuckle.

*******

On Saturday morning, Starsky agreed to meet Sheriff Wharton and Pam at the diner, to ‘hash out your differences,’ as Wharton had said on the phone. 

When they were seated and the waitress had poured their coffees and taken their orders, Wharton made a conciliatory gesture toward Starsky, on his left, and Pam, on his right. “I can’t have my two favorite people arguing, now can I?” He looked at Pam, an expression Starsky thought could almost be fear on his face. “What seems to be the problem, honey? Tell your ol’ dad what your hubby’s doin’ wrong.”

Starsky’s already-low opinion of the man took another few steps downward but he kept his disgust inside and watched Pam consider her response.

“He doesn’t satisfy me any more.” She actually pouted. “He’s always too tired, or has a headache. That’s a chick excuse! Not something I’d expect from him.”

Wharton was clearly uncomfortable but lifted a ‘what do you say to that’ hand toward Starsky. “That sounds like a reasonable complaint to me but I really don’t want to be in the middle here, Dave. You and Pam can work this out between you… peacefully… can’t you?”

“I’m sure we can, Sheriff.” Starsky sent Pam a placating look. “Let’s take the rest of the weekend to think about things, and see where we are on Monday. Okay?”

“You’ll be staying at the station, I suppose?” Her question sounded more like an accusation.

Wharton put a hand on one of each of theirs. “I think that’s for the best, sweetie. Both of you can cool off and let things smooth out.” He took his hand off Starsky’s but patted hers. “You’ll see, honey, everything’s going to be fine.”

“Whatever you say, Daddy.” 

Starsky could feel her fury and smiled inside; two, three more days. He really couldn’t wait to put cuffs on this bitch.

Wharton didn’t look pleased but then Starsky had never seen him appear anything except worried. And, truthfully, he found himself unable to wish either of them anything other than misery. As far as he was concerned, they deserved it.

******* 

Hutch spent all day Saturday wandering the town. Everyone knew that Marcie had run away again, and platitudes he now knew to be utterly insincere flowed from each person he encountered. 

“You shouldn’t feel badly, Ken,” Mrs. Mosely, the librarian, said when he stood next to her at the meat counter in the mom ‘n’ pop grocery store. “We’ve all known Marcie since she was born, of course, and she was never the most stable person.” She laughed quickly and patted his arm. “Once you’re married, of course, that will change. She and Jeff were quite happy.” She looked away and a flush crept up her neck. “Until they weren’t, of course.”

Hutch paid for his purchases and carried them to Marcie’s house, exchanging pleasantries with everyone he passed. And now he understood why their strained faces and empty words had been bothering him for two months. There wasn’t an honest, genuine feeling behind any of their eyes. Every ‘Good morning,’ or ‘Good afternoon, Ken,’ grated on his frayed nerves. Still, he returned each greeting with innocence. 

Mark, the young gardener Marcie had hired, was pruning the winter-dead flower bed in front of her house. “Couple o’ days to yourself, huh, Ken?”

Hutch stopped at the bottom of the front porch steps and waited for Mark to elaborate. He wasn’t about to give this kid any encouragement but wanted to hear what another conspirator had to say.

Mark flushed. “I mean… my sister told me Marcie’s done another bunk.”

Hutch put his left foot onto the first step, rested the bag of groceries on his knee and waited, his gaze never leaving Mark’s eyes.

“No offense intended, Mr. Foley. That’s just what I heard.”

Hutch left his grim expression in place and started up the stairs. “You might want to question some of the things you hear, Mark.”

Hutch walked inside as Mark’s voice assured him, “Yes, sir, Mr. Foley. I’ll do that.” Leaning back against the closed door, Hutch desperately wanted to talk to Starsky. Two months of yearning for something, someone just out of reach, had gouged a deep hole in his psyche; one he knew only his partner could fill.

He walked to the kitchen and put away the things he’d bought. “There’ll be time,” he told the empty room. “Starsky and I’ll have all the time in the world when this is finished. We just need to get through the next couple of days.” He opened the fridge, took out a beer and uncapped it. Cocking it toward where he wished his absent friend was standing, he sighed. “Right, Starsk?”

*******

On Sunday morning, with everyone pouring out of the church, and Starsky leaning against his patrol car at the side of the building, a fine looking white Cadillac convertible cruised up Center Avenue and stopped in front of the sheriff’s office just down the street. 

Sheriff Wharton, Thompson and Pam, plus most of the rest of the town’s residents drifted in that direction. 

Hutch, coming out at the tail end of the congregation, rested a casual hip against the police car next to Starsky. “This is going to be interesting.”

“Huggy leading the cavalry,” Starsky said, sotto voce. “Don’t you just love it?”

Hutch wanted to cheer but kept his face expressionless. He knew his partner could hear the emotion in his voice, though. “He sure is a sight for sore eyes.” 

Huggy Bear, exuding grand panache, exited the yacht-length vehicle, scurried around to the passenger’s side and handed Marcie out. By this time, the street was crowded with spectators, waiting to see what this colorfully-dressed, skinny black man and their town’s First Daughter had to say.

Huggy spotted the sheriff, in his knife-creased uniform and, taking Marcie’s hand, approached with a cheery smile splitting his face. “H. B. Brown’s the name, sir, location scout for motion pictures and television.’’

Hutch nudged Starsky and they edged to the back of the arc of interested townspeople. 

“I am about to put your charming little community on the map, Sheriff,” Huggy said, loudly enough for all to hear. Turning back to the car, he handed Minnie out of the back seat before facing Wharton and Thompson. “My assistant, Miss Kaplan, and I met the exquisite Ms. Thompson in Los Angeles yesterday and she told us all about your mountain hideaway.” Huggy spread his arms. “I simply _had_ to come and see it for myself.” He turned slowly in a circle, supposedly studying the buildings and people. “This is all just too… too… well, too picturesque! You must allow me to bring a production company up here… film all your lovely houses… your quaint businesses… Why, your people may be entertaining the actresses of Charlie’s Angels in your own homes!”

Murmurs and whispers spread like wildfire. “What did he say?” “Charlie’s Angels?” “Farrah Fawcett?” “Jackie Smith?” “ _Here_?” “Oh, my God.”

Thompson’s raised voice cut through the chatter. “We’re _not_ … interested.”

“Now, don’t be hasty, Mr. Thompson. You are Mr. Thompson, aren’t you, sir? Marcie described you to perfection but we haven’t been formally introduced.” Huggy stuck out his hand.

Thompson took it but let go immediately. “I don’t care what my daughter told you, Mr. Brown, Thompsonville isn’t interested in being a location for any Hollywood production.”

“But you have no idea what you’d all be turning down, sir.” Huggy gestured around at his listeners. “Your residents could be looking at thousands of dollars in rental fees for their homes. Even more for their businesses.”

At the word, ‘thousands,’ louder murmurs could be heard.

“Let’s just ask everyone, okay?” Huggy caught the eager eyes of as many people in the front row of his audience as he could. “Why don’t we all gather someplace so that I can tell you what my various clients may be able to offer. Why, Spielberg and Lucas are personal friends of mine and they’re always looking for out-of-the-way places for their location shoots.” 

Huggy glanced at Marcie, who had stayed back with Minnie. “Is there any place in town, Ms. Thompson, large enough to accommodate everyone?” He looked around again. “And I do mean everyone. Don’t leave anyone out, please. You should all know how much your town could gain, collectively and individually, from a big-budget production company.” He waved his colorful arms around again. “Not to mention the thrill of seeing yourselves on the big or small screen. The pay is excellent, by the way, for stand-ins and non-speaking parts. Production managers are always looking for local residents to fill those roles.”

Marcie put on a convincing smile and looked at her father. “I really think they should hear Mr. Brown’s proposal, Father. The community center is large enough, isn’t it? Even if some people have to stand?”

Before he could respond, Huggy continued. “Bring all the children, too, please. Minnie and Ms. Thompson can keep them entertained while we discuss the potential money you’ll all be making.” He gestured toward the Cadillac. “The trunk is packed with cookies and sodas.”

More positive-sounding murmurs made the rounds of the crowd and the children began jumping up and down. “Cookies, cookies!” “They’ll spoil your dinner!” “But, Mommmm!” “I wanna meet Charlie! We only hear his voice!” “It’s John Forsythe, Bobby, I’ve told you that!” “Maybe. But I wanna meet him anyway, whoever he is!”

It was clear that Wharton and Thompson, despite their initial disapproval, weren’t going to be able to deny the ground-swell of greed and childish enthusiasm they heard and saw building.

Marcie smiled at the eager faces around her. “Gather all the kids and adults who aren’t already here. Minnie and I will take care of the children in the reception hall downstairs until the rest of you have had a chance to hear Mr. Brown’s ideas. He sure convinced me.”

That endorsement sealed the deal as far as everyone within hearing distance was concerned. 

“Go find Old Sam,” someone shouted. “Drag his sorry ass down here. Can’t have him saying he missed out on this opportunity.”

“Don’t forget Roger Mosely, either,” someone else said. “He always goes to sleep in his La-Z-Boy on Sundays.”

“Get _everybody_!”

Starsky approached a glowering Sheriff Wharton. “Should I go roust Stan out of bed, sir?”

“Might as well.”

As Starsky got in his patrol car and drove away, Hutch took Thompson aside. “Why don’t I run up to the plant, Mr. Thompson? Abe shouldn’t miss this.”

Thompson looked put-upon but seemed to be trying to make the best of things. “I don’t suppose anyone’s going to try breaking into the place today. Sure, go ahead.”

Hutch ran up the hill to Thompson Pharmaceuticals and woke Abe, who had been sleeping behind the desk in the reception area. “Come on, Abe, Mr. Thompson said you’re to lock up and come down to the community center. Some sort of celebrity’s arrived in town.”

Still half-asleep, Abe locked the door after them and tried to keep up with Hutch’s long strides. “What kinda celebrity?”

Hutch hurried him along. “No idea, but they’re talking about Spielberg, Lucas, and Charlie’s Angels.”

Abe stopped in his tracks. “From what I read in the gossip rags, big-shot directors like that probably never even heard of those gals.”

“That can’t be true.” Hutch put determination in his voice. “Somebody said everybody in show business knows everybody else! Let’s hurry!”

Starsky, with Stan in the passenger’s seat, drove out of a cross street and stopped to pick them up. 

“What’s this I hear about Farah Fawcett?” Stan asked, apparently not fully awake.

When they got to the community center, Abe and Stan hopped out and hurried inside. Hutch figured they were both already counting the money they were going to make. He and Starsky remained on the front steps, casually herding the stragglers into the large room. 

When it appeared as if everyone who was going to show up already had, Starsky opened the trunk of the patrol car and took out a shovel. Moving to the doors, he inserted the shaft through the verticle bronze door handles so that no one could exit.

Dobey, Babcock, Simmons and other BCPD officers, uniformed and in plain clothes - flak vests bulging under shirts - materialized from around corners. They were accompanied by members of the Highway Patrol and sheriff’s department personnel from a nearby county. Everyone converged on the community center. 

“Ah…” Hutch said. “The cavalry.”

“Wonder where they left their horses?” Starsky asked with a smirk.

Dobey actually bounded up the steps, stopping on the landing to stare at them. “I can’t tell you boys how glad I am to see you. When Ms. Thompson showed up Friday morning it was like every member of Metro had had their fondest Christmas wish granted.”

Hutch knew if he tried to say anything, he’d be sure to stammer, but Dobey held up his hands, palms outward. “Now, don’t go gettin’ swelled heads or anything, we were all just really glad to know you were alive.”

Hutch figured his partner was as choked up as he was, and made do with a simple nod.

“Edith said to give you her love and to tell you she’s already cooking your welcome home feast.” Clearly unable to contain his emotions, Dobey threw his long arms around their necks and pulled them into a three-way embrace. 

When he finally stepped back, he turned to stare at the closed double doors and Hutch thought he was probably trying to get his normally stern face back on.

Hutch had to swallow the lump in his own throat before he could address his BCPD friends at the bottom of the steps. “Do Starsky and I assume that all other exits are covered?”

Starsky was flush-faced. “Don’t want anybody leavin’ ‘til we’re good an’ ready.” His tone of voice was grim but Hutch heard, and could see, the bubbling high spirits underneath.

“I think the prisons call it lockdown, Starsky,” Babcock said.

Dobey turned back and, at his gesture, Starsky removed the shovel and threw it aside. Dobey pulled both doors open and strode into the standing-room-only crowd.

On the small stage at the front, Thompson and Wharton stood to the side while Huggy was front and center. “And meals!” he crowed. “The caterers serve food you won’t believe!”

Heads turned to stare at the imposing black man striding up the aisle. Expressions were blank, initially, but became concerned, then afraid, as cops of all ilk poured in through the front, side, and rear doors. Hutch and Starsky closed the front doors as soon as all law enforcement personnel had entered and spread out around the walls. Shoulder to shoulder, they stood there and stared down the town’s residents.

Huggy, grim satisfaction on his face, stepped aside as Dobey climbed to the stage and armed officers leaped up, bracketing Thompson and Wharton.  
Dobey stared visual daggers at the town’s two most important men before gesturing to the uniforms on either side of them. “Cuff ‘em. I’ll get to the formal charges in a minute.”

As the officers did as ordered, Dobey turned to the audience. He stared at the faces for a long time and Hutch wondered whether he was at a loss for words, or simply attempting to find ones adequate to his fury.

“You kidnapped two of my detectives. You buried their memories so that they believed the lies you told them. You kept them here against their will. You are all, every one of you, guilty of such heinous crimes, I’m going to ask the District Attorney to think up some new charges when you come to trial. For now… I’ll tell you this. You are under arrest.”

He motioned to the officers lining the walls. “Get ‘em outta my sight!”

Hutch followed Starsky to the front, where Pam was screaming epithets at the officer attempting to restrain her. 

Starsky held out his hand to the uniform. “Can I borrow your cuffs, please?”

Looking only too pleased to pass this particular arrest to someone else, the officer did as requested and stepped back. 

Hutch was afraid that Pam might attack his partner, but Starsky didn’t give her a chance to do anything except sputter as he grabbed her wrist, spun her around, and secured the manacles behind her back. “Pamela Wharton…” He leaned over her shoulder and lowered his voice. “You are under arrest. The charges will be determined, eventually. And I am going to enjoy every minute of my testimony against you.” Turning her over to the officer, Starsky smiled at Hutch. 

Hutch threw his arm over his partner’s shoulders. “Let’s go congratulate Huggy on his fine performance.” 

 

EPILOG

The celebration in the squad room was like nothing Starsky could ever remember. Even his ‘Welcome Back’ party, after Gunther, hadn’t been quite this raucous. Everyone had feared for his Hutch’s lives, and having them both back, seemed to double the good feelings.

Several small Christmas trees topped filing cabinets, each decorated with as many lights and ornaments as they could hold. Food was plentiful and Edith Dobey made sure no one’s plate stayed empty for very long. Every once in a while, Starsky noticed her glance at him or his partner, probably to assure herself that they were really there. Her smile, each time Starsky caught it, was more glowing than before.

Babcock sidled up, a cup of punch in his hand. “So, what’s the word, Starsky?” 

Hutch joined them. “Be specific, Babcock. Where would you like him to start?”

Simmons walked up. “How about the main perps? Wharton and Thompson?”

Knowing Hutch was longing to vent at least some of his pent-up emotions, Starsky passed the ball. “You tell ‘em. I’m all talked out.”

Hutch’s expression was very nearly feral. “The D.A.’s having a whole new book printed up so he can throw it at each of them.”

Babcock lifted his glass in salute. “Good! Send ‘em up to spend the rest of their miserable lives with their miserable sons!”

Starsky clinked his punch cup against Hutch’s. “Our sentiments exactly.”

“What about Thompson’s daughter, though?” Babcock asked. “Is she going to be charged?”

Hutch shook his head. “With her complete cooperation and testimony, a deal’s been struck. Probation only.”

Starsky picked up the thread. “Her ex-husband came back and the local authorities, along with the D.A., have approved their re-opening Thompson Pharmaceuticals.”

Hutch’s face showed relief. “They’ll probably get married again, and keep the company going.”

“Apparently,” Starsky added, “it was a good one. Before Thompson’s son got into trouble that is, and he and the sheriff talked the townspeople into the conspiracy.”

“And them? The townspeople?” was Simmons’s next question.

“Probably some jail time, for the most heavily involved,” Hutch said.

“Probation for the rest.” Starsky shrugged because it really was enough for him. “The state and county need the company and hope Marcie and Jeff, as well as the employees who aren’t going to jail, will be able to make a go of it.”

“What about the doctor?” Babcock wanted to know. “The one who came up with that stuff they gave you?”

“Ah…” Hutch raised the index finger of his right hand. “Therein lies an interesting…” He looked at Starsky. “What would you call it, partner? Solution to the problem?”

Starsky snickered but knew it didn’t hide his dissatisfaction. “A damn get-outta-jail-free card is what I call it.”

When Babcock and Simmons returned blank stares, Hutch explained. “It seems the Department of Defense has stepped in and spirited the good Doc Morris into one of their covert divisions, presumably to divulge the secret of his compound only to them.”

“And all his research notes went with him.” Starsky sighed and forced himself to let it go. “We got everybody else, though. We damn sure got everybody else!” 

Babcock stared at Starsky for what seemed like a long time. “I’ve heard stories about what the Wharton daughter was like….” He raised his eyebrows. “Would you care to enlighten us, Detective?”

“Come to the trial, Babcock,” Starsky replied. “That’s all I’m going to say here.”

Babcock accepted the answer with good grace. “Sorry you had to go through all that guys, but you did good!” With a last click against Starsky’s and Hutch’s cups, he drifted away.

“Thompsonville, California, huh?” Simmons eyed each of them, as if making sure they really were okay. “Not on my vacation destination list, I’ll tell you that.” Shaking his head, he followed his partner

Dobey, an arm around Edith’s waist, approached and Starsky smiled at both of them. These were two people he and Hutch had counted on more times than he could remember, even with all his faculties back in full force. He exchanged tight hugs with each of them, while Hutch waited to do the same.

“So, Hutch…” Dobey began, once his arm was firmly back around his wife. “It’s my understanding that you haven’t been very fond of Christmas, up to now. Is that right?”

“Yes, sir,” Hutch admitted before he draped his arm around Starsky’s shoulders. “But I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“The Grinch relents!” Starsky shouted. “That’s cause for serious celebration in my book. Drink up, everybody! It’s my mother’s punch recipe and she guarantees cheerfulness with no hangovers!”

While cups were re-filled and clinked together, Starsky shared a long look with his partner. “Merry Christmas, Hutch.”

“Merry Christmas, Starsk.”

 

END


End file.
